My Frozen Heart
by blAnk pAgE drEAm
Summary: [[oneshot]] I found him after a decade apart. Unfortunately, she found him too. Based on the faerie tale The Snow Queen.


**Disclaimer: No, I don't own Code Lyoko, do you? No? Then don't judge.**

**My 4th fanfic. Whoo!! Actually, I'm just trying to buy myself some time for one of my other ones, 'cause I'm too lazy to write the next chapter. See if you can guess who this story's about before their names are revealed.**

**Sorry I had to change this. I found some major errors, and couldn't live with them up. Sorry again...**

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My Frozen Heart

_On the day that we parted, I prayed that we'd somehow meet again. And so we did, but not in the way that I had expected._

It was ten years to that day when I think I might have seen him again. Or rather, felt him. Maybe it was just a coincidence, since my mind was on him at the time, but I got that same sensation of falling. It was only for a moment, but I could have sworn I felt him pass me on the crowded street.

I shook it off. "No way," I told myself. "I'll probably never see him again, anyway." He was the only friend with whom I hadn't kept in contact. Maybe I wanted him to contact me first; maybe I just truly didn't want to see him again. I couldn't remember the exact details, but I did know that it was much too late by now.

Sighing, I adjusted the shoulder strap of my bag as I reached the apartment complex that would be my home for the time being. A period of bad luck and college debts had temporarily quashed my dream of buying a house, and it was either this or go and live with my parents, which I wasn't about to do.

I paid for my rent, and headed up the stairs to my new home. It wasn't very large, and came equipped with only a bed, a kitchen, and one chair with a desk and lamp beside it. But I was thrilled with everything – everything except the view. The one window looked out into a barren lot, and the only other thing visible were the apartments across from me. Disappointed, I closed the curtains to avoid looking out onto the dismal scene.

It was at least a month before I opened them again. I had been quick to make my apartment more personal, and I wanted to plant flowers in a window box like they did in the movies. It was cliché, I knew, but I longed for some color. I chose a group of small roses, bred to be tiny and lovely, but sturdier than regular roses. Besides, they were small enough that anyone looking over from the adjacent apartments couldn't see them. They were for my eyes alone.

After planting my roses, I left my curtains open more and more. Much to my delight, I discovered that at a certain time of night, the moon would shine over the apartments and hit my window. I also took more notice of the tenants of the apartments across from mine. The one that caught my attention most was the one of which I had the best view.

The person who lived there was a young man, around the same age as myself. His hair was overlong, and his clothes were sloppy at best, but he moved with such grace that I felt as if I knew him. Unlike his neighbors, his light would stay on late into the night on a regular basis. He would sit and scribble something on a notepad for hours on end. I think he might have known that I watched him sometimes, and – unless I'm very much mistaken – he watched me sometimes too. I had my theories about him from the beginning, but I wrote them off as wishful thinking. It was a few more weeks before I found out for sure.

I was walking out to go to work, not at all looking forward to another day of the odd jobs I was doing before I got a more permanent one. Not paying attention, I ended up running headlong into someone. Muttering a hurried apology, I glanced up and met the gaze of another pair of eyes. It was the young man who lived across from me, and as I looked into his deep, endless eyes, I recognized him for who he was. This wasn't just another man – it was my childhood friend and first love.

Evidently, he remembered me, too, since his face broke into a wide grin. We spent a few minutes chatting before I remembered that I still needed to go to work. He understood and invited me out for dinner that night. I went off to work in considerably higher spirits.

Over dinner, we talked about our lives ever since we had parted. I received the shock of my life when he explained to me that he was now an author. It made sense, I guess. After all, I had noticed him writing on several occasions, but it had never occurred to me that he would write professionally. Then again, who would have guessed that I would get my degree in teaching after all of the classes I had to skip. I asked him what they were about. He was very reluctant, but after much badgering and questioning on my part, he admitted that they were based on the adventures we had as children, saving the world together. I remember giving him a blank stare, then starting to laugh. Noticing his hurt expression, I explained that I had just been wondering why he had been so shy about it. He laughed, too, seeming relieved. I urged him to let me read what he had written so far. He agreed in the end, but he said that I had to do something for him in return.

I puzzled over this for awhile before coming up with a solution. I bought white roses and told him to wait until the moonlight hit my window. When it did, the blossoms glowed brilliantly, revealing the beauty in what looked like simple bushes. We promised never to reveal our secrets to anyone else, and to always keep them around. And so we lived happily for a time, he knowing the secret of my roses, and I, the contents of his stories. But even the happiest of times must end eventually.

As a warm summer became a cool fall, she came. I don't know how it happened, but out of nowhere, she just showed up. Hers was another face from the past, but she seemed to have changed while I had stayed the same. She was beautiful; I was plain. There was no comparison.

He was attracted to her immediately. In less than a week, it was clear that they were more than just friends. This hurt, because in the few short months we had been hanging around together, I had fallen in love with him again. I think that she knew this, too, since every time they passed, she would give me that "don't-you-wish-you-were-me" look. A few days later, a formal complaint was lodged about my "unsightly shrubs", and I was forced to take down my roses. I noticed the note was in her handwriting… Still, I urged myself to be happy for him.

Over the next few months, I noticed a change coming over him. His handsome face became paler, his eyes glazed. The few times I said hello to him in passing, he looked at me as if he didn't know me. Sometimes I caught him staring at the spot where my flowers had once been, wearing an expression I often did, as if trying to recall something from a half-remembered dream, before she distracted him. As winter came, instead of reminiscing with me about our childhood, he spent his nights lying next to her. I watched from a distance as she slowly chipped away at his confidence until he began to rely solely on her.

On an icy night, she decided to display her power over him. She asked – no, commanded him to do the unthinkable. He was helpless to do anything but obey. So I watched him through my window as he carried all of his notes, pages, and chapters down into the lot between our apartments. Later, after I was sure that he was gone, I came down and gathered it all up, bringing it back up to my apartment. I cried myself to sleep that night.

After throwing away his life's work, he seemed somehow dead. His hair was a mess, his face blank, and his once-confident stride reduced to a half-hearted slump. His dull eyes reflected the emptiness inside of him. No spark of hope remained.

She, on the other, was more bright and happy than ever, visibly savoring her triumph. Now sure of her power, she commanded him more openly. He did as she said without complaint.

A week of this period of hopelessness went on, and I started to get seriously worried. I wanted to tell him about how I still had his manuscript, but didn't have the chance. She was always with him now, and even if she hadn't been, I'm not sure that he would have comprehended in his current state. I could think of no way to help him.

One night, I came home from an especially long day. Exhausted, I collapsed onto the couch and promptly fell asleep. The dream I had that night was so vivid that I'll remember it to my dying day. A man, one from my distant past, appeared to me. "Come with me," Franz Hopper said to me. "There's something you need to see."

I followed him and found myself looking into a day over a decade ago. We had finally won! All of us were hugging, laughing and crying at the same time, and the program that would finally destroy the virus was launched. "I already know this," I told Franz Hopper. He shook his head and gestured for me to keep watching.

Suddenly, we were down in the Super Computer room. A black shadow drifted out of it. My eyes widened. We had never seen this, too busily celebrating upstairs. I could feel XANA's anxiety. It needed somewhere to hide: a body. The computer was being scoured for it, and unless it could find a voluntary host, it would die. And that was how XANA found her, rejected, hurt, and filled with rage. XANA promised her revenge on the man who had scorned her, in return for sanctuary. She agreed.

The vision changed. She was no longer a child, but as she was now. XANA had been living inside of her for years, and now the time was right for her to enact her revenge. She traced him, and found him here. She worked her way into his confidence, convinced him to trust her. I watched her telling him things, horrible things. How his friends no longer cared about him. How I had lied to him when I promised that the roses would always be there as a symbol of our secret. How he was wasting his life writing idly. How all he had left was her, but not to worry, because he could always depend on her. She broke him down, made him think he was worthless. She watched his pain with pleasure. All so XANA could create a body of its own with his life.

Tears streamed down my face as the vision faded. I turned to Franz Hopper. "They will kill him," he told me. "But XANA is weak now. XANA can only drain him of his life force if he has no will to live. He won't fight it, now. He believes that he has no reason to live." Franz Hopper took a ballpoint pen from his pocket and wrote something on my hand.

I woke with a start. I was drenched in cold sweat and trembling uncontrollably. Slowly, I unclenched my hand. On it were these words: Can you give him one?

It hadn't been a dream. That meant that his life was really in danger. Without thinking about it, I sprinted out into the hall. Skidding to a halt in front of his apartment, I thundered on the door. It swung open to reveal the empty living room. My heart sank. She – they – had taken him somewhere… but where? The factory, I realized. I grabbed my car keys and headed down to the parking lot.

The drive there seemed like it took an eternity. When I pulled up, I spotted his car near the bridge. I got out and swung down the rope as I had done hundreds of times in the past. Into the elevator, down the shaft. Even this took too much time. His life was being sucked away, and all I could do was wait for the doors to open.

I entered the lab at last. She stood above him with XANA at her side in semi-human form. And there he was, lying on the floor, his face deathly pale. "No," I said weakly, sinking to my knees beside him. "No, you can't be dead." I pressed my fingers to his neck. A faint flutter was there, his heartbeat. He was alive, but only barely.

My tears splashed onto his face as I bent over him. I told him everything. How I had saved his work, how much we would all miss him if he died, how I had never wanted to break our promise, how much I loved him, what I would do, if he would just please, please wake up…

Slowly, very slowly, the color began to return to his cheeks. His breathing became steadier, and his pulse strengthened. He opened his eyes and looked up at me. But it wasn't her name that he called. "Yumi…?"

"Oh, Ulrich," I choked out, hugging him tightly. "I thought you weren't ever going to wake up…" We were both crying and holding each other close. Sissi shrieked with rage. XANA brooded silently as the black shadow that was its body began to fade away. It had used the last of its energy to try to drain Ulrich's away. They had lost; we had won. Sometimes life is just as simple as that.

_That was a few years ago. Today, we're happily married and living in a small house, not much bigger than our old apartments. We can afford much more – after all, Ulrich's novel was a best-seller, but we both agree that sometimes, less is more. I love it here, and it even has a great view, perched so that the moon shines directly on our garden, illuminating the white blossoms so that they shine silver._

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**The End!! Did you like it? If you did, feel free to tell me about it. Anyway, I'll shut up and let you get on with your life. Until next time,**

**- Railynn**


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